


For the Empire

by White Aster (white_aster)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Bisexuality, Ficlet Collection, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Game(s), pregnancy mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: An information broker, a prothean, and an old mercenary meet at a party....(ficlet collection, only vague hints of a larger story continuity)
Relationships: Javik/Liara T'Soni/Zaeed Massani
Kudos: 10





	For the Empire

**Author's Note:**

> A random collection of cracky ficlets vaguely along a timeline where Javik, Zaeed, and Liara all pair up together and help the galaxy rebuild, one Shadow Broker-sanctioned mission at a time. First ficlet is during the Citadel DLC party, while the others are distinctly post-game.

“So,” Zaaed said, swirling something vaguely whiskey-colored and mostly engine-cleaner tasting around in his glass. “An Empire, eh?”

The Prothean squinted three of his four eyes at him in response, the fourth twitching in a way that read less as “annoyed” than as “I’ve drunk so much engine-cleaner that I’m losing control of whole muscle groups”. The twitching eye (and only that eye) opened in surprise, swiveling to look as laughter, a yell, and a thump came from somewhere on the second floor. A hand that might have been that Vega guy’s flailed over the railing, slaloming through the rails before being wrapped in blue and retreating with a drunken laugh.

Zaeed had to hand it to Shepard. It was a goddamned good party. No one’d even died yet.

He turned his attention back to the drunk Prothean. He had a point, after all. Not a big one, but still. “So was there a Prothean emperor in this empire of yours?”

The wayward eye swiveled back to him. “Yes. The Prothean emperor was the exemplar of leadership.” All his eyes dropped down to his drink, which looked to be vaguely purple and sparkly - a very asari brand of engine cleaner. “For what good it did any of us.”

“A’ight. So...how did lines of sush--sushesh--what happened when the emperor died. I mean, you get the next best leadership guy as emperor? Like the turians and the Hierarchy?”

Zaeed was pretty sure the combination of differently-squinting eyes was just confused now. Or maybe suspicious. “...not like the turians. In my cycle our system was much more advanced, but it was still...” He paused, slowing to enunciate carefully. “Mer-i-to-cra-tic. The Empire deserved nothing less.”

“A’ight. So.” Zaeed grinned, setting down his glass, tumbling his fingers in the air in a and-then-and-then. “You’re the Prothean emperor, now, then? Last man standing?”

Whoa, shit, _all_ the eyes opened wide, eyes contracting down to paper-thin slits before squinting all together. The Prothean planted his hands, all too-few fingers of them, on the table and arm-pressed himself up to glare at Zaeed. It might’ve been intimidating, three engine-cleaners ago. The guy wasn't big, but he was as concentrated a ball of aggression as any Zaeed'd ever seen. Like Jack, marinated a few thousand years.

Mighta even turned into a fight a few hours ago, but now there was another shout from above, a chorus of laughter, and a krogan floated over the railing, swimming through the air until the blue light around him flickered, someone yelled something, and the krogan fell like the dumb fucking rock he was, slamming into the floor so hard Zaeed was surprised he didn’t land on the downstairs neighbor’s couch. 

The Prothean didn’t flinch, still staring at Zaeed.

A dark blot that might have been Shepard’s head leaned out over the railing. “Fuck, Grunt, you ok?”

At the edge of Zaeed’s vision, the krogan’s arm popped up, thumb up. “I’m invincible!” The arm fell back down. “And your floor feels nice....”

Shepard patted the railing before disappearing again. “Ok, good.”

That same one eye had started twitching again.

Zaeed smiled into it. “Your Imperial Highness.” And saluted him with the rest of his godawful drink.

Javik sighed, a great gust that smelled of sweet asari booze. “I hate you.”

“Because I’m right! Ha!” Zaeed slammed back the last of the engine cleaner. “Never drank with an emperor before.”

Javik poured the rest of his drink down his gullet and said, “I hate you all.” Then he stormed off, absconding with the entire bottle of sparkly purple stuff on the way.

Zaeed just laid his head back on the couch cushions and laughed.

Great goddamned party.

\---------

The asari lowered her head to look at him through those pretty lashes. "Do you just have a thing for asari?"

What kind of stupid question was that? Everyone had a thing for asari. "What makes you say that?"

"I heard you talking to Samara."

"Great girl. Lady. Woman? Um... _perela_?"

Oh, that got her attention. "You know asari?"

"Some. Basics. When someone's cussin' me out. How to ask where's the toilet, or how much I'm gettin' paid, or if someone wants to fuck. You know. The basics."

"I see."

"So. _Varalasa ha na thel'inissa, per'ila?_ "

She laughed, but not unkindly. "You move very fast, Mr. Massani."

Zaeed smiled. After all, that wasn't a "no". "I ain't gettin' younger, gorgeous."

\---------

“A family is one thing. But I doubt I have to point out that actually helping him rebuild the Prothean Empire is an incredibly bad idea.” Liara veered left, eyes caught by something in the store window. “The original Protheans were fascist tyrants that enslaved the galaxy.” She moved behind a store display of baby clothes. “Oh, this is adorable.”

Zaeed moved in after her, more to keep her in line of sight than anything. “They were right bastards, no doubt. But then, so were the batarians, and everyone’s busy wailing over their goddamned tragic backstory now, aren’t they?” Out of habit, he let his eyes slide over the store (empty, one shopkeeper in the back, standard tiny Citadel shop with one door in back to the storeroom) and back out onto the street to skate over passersby. “Besides, to make an Empire he’ll need Protheans. Ain’t gonna get the four-eyed kind any way nature intended. Say he decides the half-breed blue kind are fine, and that still means he’s gotta charm more asari’n just you if he wants any real numbers.”

A sound that might have been a snorted laugh came from behind the display. “True. Any plan that rests on him 'charming' anyone is probably doomed to failure.”

“Math just doesn’t work out.” Zaeed agreed, scratching his chin. “Suppose he could clone himself.”

The rustling through the display contents stopped, and Liara slowly leaned around it to look at him in horror. "Zaeed."

Zaeed smiled a bit, looking out over the promenade. “Imagine it. Entire battalion of your kids and his clones? Goddamned unstoppable.”

“Zaeed, no.” 

“Don’t need a whole army, really, just enough for a good merc squad or four.”

“We are not having this conversation.” 

\---------

“My armor is fucking fine.”

The goddamned Prothean ignored him, still paging through the store interface on his datapad. “Your armor is a pile of welded-together trash with seventeen structural weaknesses." Two eyes slid to look deeply unimpressed at said armor laid out on the table. "And that is only what I can see from just this angle.”

“It’s comfortable, and I got the joints just the way I like!" Zaeed said, gesturing with the cleaning brush. "Don't give me that, you're a soldier, you know how important that is."

The two eyes actually rolled, something he'd probably picked up from someone on the Normandy. “And that helmet--”

Zaeed looked at the helmet in his hands. “Is perfectly fucking fine!”

“--is the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my entire life.” Javik looked fully back at his pad, looking for all the world like some kind of disapproving quartermaster. “I am buying you something serviceable.”

“You’re worse than any woman, I swear,” Zaeed said, looking at the helmet in question and then tossing it back on the table. He didn’t want to fix the damned HUD again anyway, and far be it from him to turn down new armor. Knowing Javik it’d be fucking badass, too. He was an asshole, but he had good taste in gear, Zaeed’d give him that.

\---------

**T'soni** : Javik, did you send me something?  
**Javik** : new armor  
**T'soni** : any particular reason?  
**Javik** : i was buying armor for Massani  
**Javik** : it was efficient  
**T'soni** : Is Zaeed's armor also red?  
**Javik** : yes  
**T'soni** : You bought both of us armor that MATCHES yours?  
**Javik** : yes  
**Massani** : welcome to the fucking prothean empire. if you're the emperor, is liara the empress?  
**Javik** : no  
**T'soni** : is Zaeed?  
**Javik** : no  
**Massani** : need a bigger tiara  
**T'soni** : are we supposed to wear this armor somewhere?  
**Javik** : anywhere you do not want to be killed  
**Massani** : try it on and send a pic? I told him the red'll clash with your skin  
**T'soni** : Not too badly. [attachment]  
**Massani** : goddamn.  
**T'soni** : you knew he was buying this?  
**Massani** : mighta had a peek. wanted to make sure he didn't make us look like fucking Blood Pack.  
**Massani** : also that yours fit right. looked proper asari. you know.  
**T'soni** : I see. It is very form-fitting.  
**Massani** : yeh  
**Javik** : it is versatile  
**Javik** : you can wear it under looser clothing  
**T'soni** : You're right. It's very light.  
**T'soni** : Nice craftsmanship. I particularly like the biotic amplifiers.  
**Javik** : good  
**Javik** : wear it  
**Massani** : when are you coming home, again?  
**T'soni** : Late.  
**Massani** : shame. well, you get lonely, give a call. all i'm doing is watching his imperial majesty bitch at the contractors. not nearly as entertaining as you in that.  
**T'soni** : I'll keep it in mind. I might also need you to deliver a message later.  
**Massani** : this message involve guns or punching people?  
**T'soni** : It might.  
**Massani (private)** : good. kinda want to try out the new armor but don't tell him that  
**T'soni (private)** : My lips are sealed.


End file.
